"Take me to the end so I can see the start, there's only one way to mend a broken heart."

I forgot that summer means searing heat, sticky skin, and frizzy hair. Today has been so hot I've felt like my eyeballs are melting...and it's not even June yet! Yuck.

Nevertheless, it's been great to have my sisters and friends home from college. Summer is looking to be a great balance of relaxing and fun. I'm still in job-search mode, but most likely will end up as a part-time nanny for various families. (I'm making business cards for my babysitting services...how exciting is that?!) As far as vacations, I'll have my family's annual Outer Banks trip, a sibling week in Canada, and probably random camping weekends here and there. Then it's back to Goshen in late August.

I guess this means that my semester off has come to an end. Of course I'll still be inner-processing a lot this summer, but it'll have a different feel to it...more random; not as deliberate. And certainly not as grief, anger, and pain-filled as last summer was.

This semester has turned out to be just the sabbatical I dreamed of. Yes, there were the moments of boredom and regret, but the moments that I thought to myself "I'm so glad I'm home for this" made it worth it. Being home for the anniversary, helping with the gravestone, volunteering, having time to journal and think, getting to know my parents better, spending time with so many inspiring kids, getting more involved with my church...it was so, so worth it. I feel like I can come back to Goshen as a whole different person; ready to actually learn. That's exactly what I wanted. Maybe this semester was more about stopping my life just so I can start it again; not living halfway in-between like I had been trying before.

It will be sad to leave here again in the fall. I've loved being home. I've loved going to Micah's house every Tuesday, hanging out with his family. I've loved stopping into my grandparent's home late at night to catch up with them. I've loved sleeping in with my cat on my side. I've loved snuggling up to my mom watching junk TV. I've loved hanging out with my brother, one-on-one. I've loved the solitude that has allowed me to just think...

I've loved it all. But I'm grateful for three more months to appreciate it before I re-enter the life at Goshen that I started.

Daydreamer.

You'd be home from college by now.

How was your year? What were your grades? Who were your friends? How have you changed, or not changed? Are your dreams for the future still the same?

What are you doing this summer?
Are you working at the cafe? Hanging out with friends? Will you become dark tan like summers before? Will you hang out with your family around the supper table and make them laugh? Will you be stopping by my house at night just because you say you want a kiss? Will that feeling of summer magic surround us and make us feel like nothing in the world can ever go wrong; that life is invincible?

[Becca, stop imagining. You know that dreaming makes the reality only harder when you finally wake up.]

Recent events that have made me happy:

Finally (finally!!!) getting Micah's grave stone design officialized so that it'll be blasted and completed in about two weeks or so.

Meeting Micah's 96-year-old great-grandpa and feeling absolutely blessed to get to talk to him---what a privilege! Discovering that our great-grandparents were friends...and then our grandparents were friends...then our mothers were occasional playmates...and then, years later, not even knowing the history, Micah and I met and began to date. It's such a crazy, small world, after all.

Having a McDonald's burger picnic with Josef at the grave and chatting about our lives.

Planning a Goshen visit this coming weekend and feeling beyond excited to see wonderful friends.

Knowing that my semester off is winding down, but realizing it has been so, so worth it.

Looking forward to a wonderful summer full of adventure, laughter, and fun...sisters home, friends home...it's going to be great.

Mommy.

I know you've wished this year that you could just take my pain; make it all better. I know it hurts you to see me crying and not sleeping and feeling alone. I know you wish you could help by holding the pain for just one day. I know that in the first months you wondered if you'd called the right people, said the right things, made the right choices.

But you've been perfect.

You've let me own my grief. And given me space to be what it needs to be. And I couldn't ask for a better mom...happy Mother's Day.

Questions.

The conversation with the little boy I'm babysitting suddenly takes a turn for the serious side. He looks up at me from his bed, where he's tucked into pirate-themed blankets and pirate-pajamas, fake pirate swords at his side.

"The only way to die is by getting stabbed in your neck, right? Like a pirate?"
"Yeah...that's one way. But there are many, many other ways you can die, too."
"Like how?"
"Well, sometimes, if you hit your head really, really hard, your brain gets so hurt that you die."
"Oh. Did that ever happen to you?"
"Well...no. But it happened to my really close friend, my best friend. He was in a car accident and hit his head really, really hard."
His eyes widen and he frowns with confusion.
"...What was his name?"
"His name was Micah."
"Oh."
"They took him to the hospital, but he died."
"But...was he okay?"

How do you explain death to a young child, when you yourself can't even comprehend it? I so badly wanted to tell him, "Oh yes...Micah's ok now." But instead I had to tell him that no, death means your body does not work, so it shuts down as if you're very sleepy, and that's what happened to Micah. My answer must have consoled him, because he soon went back to his innocent state of childhood, where pirates are the worst thing that can happen to someone.

Although children grieve, they grieve differently. It would be impossible and exhausting for them to grieve intensely for days on end, so instead they mix grief with play, so that it translates into their world. Grieve a little, play a little, alternating back and forth. From afar it may look like they're normal, but deep down they're processing things just as much as adults are.

As the one year anniversary is a month behind, and time continues to march on, I wonder if grieving like a child is a paradigm I can move into. I will always grieve Micah's death, but I'm ready now for some play, too. I'm ready to alternate back and forth, not just stay on one or the other.